Catapult Alumni | Poetry

Shuffled Still Life

This poem was written by Katy Gero in a 12-Month Poetry Collection Generator taught by Angel Nafis

I have fourteen nieces and nephews, plentiful and
stalking through the blades. The cat changed hands.
The dirt is here, on this glacier, pitstop to the stars.
Jasons kids are. And Tani took hers, and if Brad—
I mean the rain that comes earlier and harder
so the story goes like this. Where I grew nothing died
for a year. Ive never seen the cherry blossoms but
to fight against gravity. Not to the sun, up and up
into the sky with the rain and the stars
except by fire. And the grass always had a cat
and dandelions carrying wishes to the front lawns
and the changing of the seasons. Has snow fallen
to talk? Ask? Talk? There, the seeds pushing
Steven. No, here the seasons served like meals
and everyone ended with a girl. I mean they started
with strangers. Despite the storms. Despite my fears.
My people, though each day I grew by the beach,
then Kristin, then Lia. Did I mention Kristin? No,
one after another after another. Count them,
my nieces and nephews came quickly.
By instinct I think of whales. Of womb. My family, no,
I mean the snow that drifts in and then away. Away—


Katy Geros collection whalefallwhalefall